Strangers in a Bar
by emebalia
Summary: Victor Henriksen's journey with the Winchesters continues. So let's visit the Roadhouse, meet some people and hunt some vampires. Rated for language just to be sure. Fourth of the Victor 'verse
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, I'm just playing with Kripke's toys

**Timeline:** Second Season somewhere between FPB and AHBL

**Author's note:** This is the fourth part of my Victor 'verse and takes place immediately after the third part "The World You Thought You Live In". This can stand alone but there are references to the other parts. All you really need to know is given below.

* * *

**Strangers in a Bar**

_Then_

After Special Agent Victor Henriksen had a literally front row seat to the Winchester brothers working a case, he quit the FBI to become a hunter. The Winchesters took him in to teach him the basics and take him on a few hunts till he would be capable to survive on his own. He learned that evil was closer than he thought and not all ghost were bad even if they tried to kill you. And sometimes people ended in hospitals.

_Now_

After they had busted Dean out of the hospital, they settled him in the backseat and Sam just drove. As expected Dean had a few words with his brother about playing with ghosts alone. Victor tried not to be offended – in Winchester speak _alone_ was translated as _not with Dean_, Victor knew that much – the lack of trust still stung. Finally Sam ended the discussion by turning the music up and gesturing towards his ear. "Can't hear you, music's too loud."

Victor thought they would head towards Bobby's again, it seemed like the Winchesters' place to go. Home. In a way Victor was thankful he hadn't known about that place as long as he had been the FBI agent on their tail. But the Winchesters surprised him once again. Bobby's place wasn't even mentioned. Instead Sam drove more or less in one direction till exhaustion took over and then they stopped at another crappy motel. And they repeated this the next day with the only difference that Dean insisted to take at least short terms in driving too. Victor wasn't fond of that idea but by then he knew Dean well enough to keep his mouth shut. He trusted Sam to force his brother back into the passenger seat after an hour or so of driving. By then the lines of pain in Dean's face were visible again and he took his medicine without arguing.

"He should be in a bed and not a rumbling car." Victor pointed out when Dean was sleeping in the back seat for once.

"One more day." Sam answered. His voice was back to normal again but the angry bruises on this throat would stay for a while. Victor shifted. Sitting for long hours in a car wasn't good for his leg and rips either. All three of them were battered and they needed time to rest and heal. Preferably not in a car.

"And then?" He asked when Sam didn't continue.

"We'll find a place to hole up for a while."

That sounded good but Victor wondered why they had to drive for days while none of them were in any condition to do so. When realization stroke he wanted to smack his own forehead. The Winchesters were fugitives – wanted by the FBI no less – of course they had to get as far away from their last known position as possible. Dean had been in an hospital, not under his own name but it was a trace somebody could follow. Not long ago he had been the one to follow such a trace. How could Victor forget that part he had no idea.

The place to hole up turned out to be a cabin in the woods. Out of season it was cheap and isolated, just the right place for vacation Winchester style. Designed for four persons – family with two kids – it had enough room so they wouldn't get literal cabin fever any time soon. Victor got the main bedroom with the king-size bed while the brothers shared the two queens room.

After Sam had unpacked – dropping the duffel bags somewhere close to their beds – he fed Dean his dose of antibiotics and painkillers and tucked him in. The lack of protest was a sure sign of how much he needed the rest.

"I'll drive into town to fetch a few things." Sam said after he had closed the door to give his brother some quiet time. "Wanna come along?"

"Sure. Why not?" After so much time in the car Victor wasn't looking forward to another trip but the least he could do was to help Sam with the groceries.

At the store Sam started to load their cart with convenience food; canned, for the microwave or the just-add-water-stuff, he wasn't picky. Even the salad he chose was pre-made but Victor gave him a point for trying.

"You know this stuff isn't good for you, right?" Judging by the amount of things in the cart Sam was planning on feeding them with this crap for the next weeks. Maybe with an occasional break with takeout burgers and what looked like a lifetime supply of M&Ms. "Ever heard of home-made food?"

Sam gave him a weak smile. "Dean can heat a can of tomato soup or add water to this Mac'n'Cheese." He hold up the package. "But I'm known to burn water. Unless you can cook, we'll have to live with these."

Victor tilted his head already running a list of thing he'd need in his mind. "Actually, I can. I'm not a genius in the kitchen but I can make a decent lasagne."

The longing look on Sam's face would have been comical if it wasn't so sad. Victor didn't dare to ask when the brothers had something home-made the last time. Maybe at Singer's but Victor wouldn't bet money on it. He liked the older man but he didn't consider him the cooking type. Silently Victor promised Sam the best lasagne ever. And maybe a little surprise for dessert.

"That smells good." It was nearly dinner time when Dean decided to join them again. After a few hours of sleep he looked more alive than the last few days.

"Ten minutes." Victor told him after a quick glance at the lasagne in the oven. "You can do something useful and set the table."

Victor couldn't deny it, he was a little nervous when he waited for the brothers to take their first bites. The lasagne should be okay, not master-chef like but okay. Or so he hoped.

"This is delicious." Was Dean's nearly pornographic comment after he'd the first bite. "We keep him." He pointed with his fork in Victor's direction.

Sam didn't answer but going by the blissful look on his face he agreed with his brother.

Victor smiled and they ate in silence for a while. When Dean reached out the third time to help himself Victor said: "You should leave room for dessert."

"What's for dessert?" Dean asked but loaded his plate nevertheless.

"Ice-cream." Victor answered. "Oh, and there is an apple pie in the oven."

Fork halfway to his mouth Dean stopped. For a second he just stared at Victor. "Man, I think I love you."

"My grandma's recipe. The highlight of every Thanksgiving. The whole family used to fight over the last slice." Victor was lost for a second in thoughts about his family. After his grandma had died it hadn't been the same.

It took him a moment to notice the change in the atmosphere. A bit confused he looked from one Winchester to the other.

"I had Thanksgiving with Jess' family once." Sam said and Dean suddenly was very interested in his food.

Crap, what a way to put his foot into his mouth. The brothers never really had a family beside their – now dead – father. He'd never met John but by what he knew about the man Victor couldn't picture him carving the turkey. And on top of that he just reminded Sam of his dead girlfriend. _Really good job, Vic._

"It should be ready by now." Victor made an escape to the kitchen. When he returned with ice-cream and pie the brothers where already laughing again. Like it never happened and Victor would be damned if he brought the topic of family or holidays up again. Ever.

After dinner they turned in early, they all needed a good night's sleep to recover.

The first week they stayed mostly at the cabin. And Victor had to admit he missed his own bed. There wasn't much he missed about his old life but his bed was definitely one of those things. Maybe because he never had nightmares while sleeping in his own bed. In his dreams he found himself face to face with Donald Libbey. Ectoplasm oozing out of the dead man's eyes, nose and mouth and he tried to carve Victor's eyes out with his knife. If the Winchesters noticed that he didn't sleep that well the first nights they didn't mention it. It got better after a few nights, though.

Another thing Victor missed was to have things in the closet and not just in a bag. The Winchesters however seemed perfectly fine with living out of a bag. It never occurred to them to put things into a closet or a dresser. They didn't even let things laying around in the bathroom. If they had to they could pack and be on the road in under a minute, Victor guessed. A life on the run.

By the end of the week Victor could pick handcuffs with a paperclip – as long as his hands weren't on his back and he could take his time – and he knew how to make holy water along with some other useful things. And he'd lost a fortune of M&Ms at poker.

They all felt better. The bruises on Sam's throat had faded to a socially acceptable level, Dean got the stitches out and he had finished his antibiotics and Victor wasn't limping anymore.

That was when Victor had to face a new monster, scarier than anything he could have ever imagined in his worst nightmare: A bored Winchester.


	2. Chapter 2

It started small. The first incidents went by unnoticed at least on Victor's part. He wasn't sure who started it – his money was on Dean – and it was kinda funny at first. The Winchesters had the kids room for a reason after all.

But then Victor got caught in the crossfire. The whole cabin turned into a minefield. Victor learned the basic rules quickly: Always wear shoes, watch before you sit, check the faucet before you turn the water on and don't mix your laundry with Dean's unless you like your underwear pink. For the pink clothes Dean put dye – not the permanent stuff, tough – into Sam's shampoo which made him a strawberry blonde for a few days. Dean took pictures.

"See this?" Dean pointed with his cue at the balls on the table. "If I hit this one right it will hit the bank, go there, sink this one and place me that ball over there just right." With the tip of his cue he illustrated the movement on the table. Victor nodded while his brain tried to catch up. He could see it, now, after Dean had pointed it out. On his own he would just have tried to sink a ball and to not look too stupid. He could count on one hand how often he had played pool in his life. And he didn't need a hand at all to count how often he had actually won a game.

So when Dean had asked him for a nice little game of pool earlier Victor had been fully prepared to get eaten alive. However, he had not expected this to become a 101 on how to hustle pool.

The bar was quiet – no surprise for a Wednesday evening – so Victor and Dean had the pool tables for themselves. The few patrons however had formed a loose circle around the two players, nursing their beers and shearing towns gossip while they watched the game. Even the barmaid – Heather according to her name tag – joined them openly admiring Dean's ass every time he bent over the table to make a shot.

Only Sam sat lonely in a corner, typing on his laptop with only an occasional glance in their direction. Silently Victor begged him to find them a hunt so they could leave the cabin behind. It was nice to sleep in the same bed night after night but it wasn't so nice if he had to check it every night for surprises. So far the pranks weren't directed at him, however, there had been collateral damage and slowly but surely the harmless pranks escalated. They needed something to do before this stupid prank war required a trip to the ER.

Somebody whistled when Dean performed the shot he had announced, placing the balls exactly where he wanted them to be. Grinning like a fool Dean looked around. Attention whore, was the word in Victor's mind. He liked being alive so he didn't say it loud.

"What would you do next?" Dean asked him, attention back on the table.

"Pocket that one." Victor nodded towards the one Dean had placed. Beside this ball Dean had only one other and the black one to go while Victor had most of his still on the table.

"You could do that. Play it save and sure." He said but it was clear he had something else in mind. "Or you could do this." As if it was nothing – and for him it maybe was – Dean bend over the table and made his shot. Balls clicked and two went into pockets leaving only the black one on the table. One more shot and Dean had won the game.

"Nice playing." Heather handed Dean a beer and with a commiserative look gave a second one to Victor. "You never had a chance."

"I know." Victor took a sip from his beer. "Thanks." But he was already forgotten. Heather had only eyes for Dean.

"Never seen you before. Passing through?" They settled at the bar.

"Resting for a few days till the next job shows up." Dean met her eyes and they both smiled. "Got a little banged up on the last gig."

Which was the understatement of the year.

"Yeah?" She leaned forward giving Dean a good view into her cleavage. "What do you do for living?" Okay, Dean wouldn't join them on the way back to the cabin, Victor guessed.

"Bounty hunter." Came the answer and Victor nearly choked on his beer. Ignoring Victor Dean started to tell the story of their latest "bounty hunt". But when he reached the climax of his story – where they had been trapped in the basement with a knife waving psycho – music started playing. _YMCA_ from the _Village People_ right out of Dean's pocket. It took him a second to connect the sound with his cell phone and by the time he had silenced the thing the men on the other table had given up holding back their laughter.

Heather on the other hand suddenly straightened and really looked at Victor for the first time. Then back at Dean. Conclusion dawned on her face and she actually blushed.

"Oh." She made and all of a sudden she was very busy cleaning some glasses at the other end of the bar.

"What?" Dean could only watch her walking away. "I'm not … he's not … damn." He hung his head dramatically.

"Little shit." Dean muttered and glared at his brother who was laughing his ass off with his own phone still in hand. When he was sure he had his brother's attention, Sam pressed a button and _YMCA_ played once again.

Victor wondered if Dean would try to clear up the misunderstanding but Dean didn't seemed interested in the bartender anymore. Muttering under his breath he stomped outside and seconds later the engine of the Impala roared to life.

"Guess we're walking back to the cabin." Sam said while he packed his laptop and threw a few bills on the table. Whistling a certain tune he left the bar.

"What did I do wrong to deserve this?" Victor asked but didn't get an answer. On his way out one of the patrons blew him a kiss and the whole table was laughing again. _Why me?_

The next time Sam opened his laptop in public it played porn. The good part. Loud.

When Victor woke up early one morning he caught Dean with one of Sam's shoes in one hand and a tube of superglue in the other. Shaking his head but without saying a word Victor made his way to the bathroom. These were the psychopath serial killers the FBI was after? Looked more like some hyperactive kindergarteners to Victor. They needed something to do, get out of this cabin and fast.

After a long shower – and no he didn't feel bad for using all the hot water – Victor felt strong enough for another day with the Winchesters. By then Sam was up too and he had made coffee.

"That's good." Victor let out a sigh when the heat spread into his stomach.

"Thought about hitting the road tomorrow." Dean said and couldn't take his eyes off of Sam's foot in the superglued shoe.

"Found us something to do?" Victor asked but he wouldn't mind aimless driving as long as this stupid prank war stopped.

"Not really." Sam answered way too cheerfully for an early morning. He hadn't noticed that he would need a knife to get his shoe off yet. "But there's someone we've to check in with."

"And." Dean pointed with his mug at Victor. "We promised to introduce you to some people."

"Sounds good."

Lifting an eyebrow Dean looked at his brother who couldn't quite hide a grin. "What's so funny?" He asked and finished his coffee.

"Nothing." Was Sam's answer but he grinned like the damn Cheshire Cat. So Dean wasn't the only one who had been up to something this morning.

It took Victor half an hour to figure out what kind of prank Sam had pulled and judging by the guilty look on Sam's face the boy felt really sorry by then.

After two close calls where Victor had barely made it to the bathroom in time he decided to stay on the toilet till it was over. Or till he died. Whatever came first, he wasn't picky.

"Sorry, Dean must have switched the mugs." Came Sam's voice from behind the door. And Victor would have laughed if it hadn't been for the hot poker stirring his guts.

"Dammit Sam, what did you put in that coffee?" Victor grunted but it sounded more like a pathetic whimper. He cramped again and cold sweat covered his whole body.

Hours later he made his way on wobbling legs towards his bed. His muscles were sore and his backside felt like he had used sandpaper on it but it was over. At least for the moment. Before he went to sleep Sam mother-hened him with Gatorade and dry toast to settle his stomach. Every second word out of his mouth was _sorry_ and combined with the sad look on his face as if he was the kicked puppy here Victor didn't have the energy to stay angry at him. Besides, this was as much Dean's fault as it was Sam's. But that son of a bitch was nowhere to be found. However, when Victor woke up there waited a slice of apple pie on the nightstand for him. With a note: _Not drugged. Promise._

"Ready to hit the road?" Dean greeted him in the morning as if nothing had ever happened. At least Sam had the decency to still look guilty.

Victor looked first Dean then Sam in the eye. His respect for John Winchester had grown in the last few days. Raising those two, he had no words.

"This prank war stops right now." Victor said with a stern voice channeling his inner ex-marine. "One more prank and I will drop you myself at the next police station." He waited a beat to let his words sink in. "Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir." They answered in unison.


	3. Chapter 3

"What's this place?" Victor got out of the car, stretched his back – ten hours on the road and not a single prank, not bad – and looked at the rundown building. A sign announced it as the "Roadhouse". There were a few trucks and cars in front of it, however, the place seemed far from busy. And it was in the middle of nowhere, too.

"You'll see." Dean answered already halfway to the door.

At first sight the bar was a bar like every other Victor had ever seen. Maybe a bit rougher, a place for bikers and truckers like the ones the Winchesters preferred. But something was off. Victor spotted one or two _normal_ guests but they didn't look very comfortable with the company. The rest of the patrons weren't not quite _normal_ for lack of a better term. He couldn't put his finger on it but his instincts told him something wasn't right. Not in a dangerous way, just not right.

The Winchesters however strolled in like they owned the place and headed right towards the bar. Behind the counter a woman around her forties polished some glasses but when the Winchesters approached she looked up.

"Hi, boys." She greeted them with a warm smile. Then her eyes settled on Victor. "Who's your friend?"

They sat down and she handed them some beers.

"Victor Henriksen." Dean introduced him. "And this is Ellen Harvelle. Don't piss her of she has a shotgun under the counter."

She examined Victor for a long second. "You look like a fed."

"I was." He admitted not surprised at all. Most bartenders could spot a cop from a mile away, especially with the kind of patrons they dealt with in a place like this. "Till a few weeks ago."

Apparently she knew the Winchesters but he had no idea what they had told her. Did she know about the supernatural, about hunters? His recent change of career didn't seem to surprise her so maybe she knew. At least she nodded knowingly.

"How did you end up with the Winchester boys?" She finally asked while she was back at cleaning glasses.

"They kidnapped me."

"Dean Winchester." Her tone let Dean flinch, a sight Victor never had expected to witness. "Are you cr..." She broke up and shook her head. "Never mind."

"We let him go." Dean defended their actions. "Not our fault he came back."

"Actually, we're here to talk to Ash." Sam spoke up. "Is he around?"

"Should be back in a minute." Her face darkened. "He better should be. I asked him to bring in the beer not to drink it himself."

While they waited for that Ash – Victor had heard the name for the first time – the Winchesters and Ellen chatted like they were old friends. The conversation moved over to people and places Victor didn't know and he used the time to have a look around. At the next table sat a man and a woman and with a little concentration Victor could listen into their conversation.

"You heard? Garth has a new hunting fellow." The man – with a weathered face and of indefinable age – offered the newest gossip.

"Who is dumb enough to hunt with Garth?" Victor could only see the woman's back and the ponytail she had drawn through the back of her baseball cap.

"Not a who. A what." The smile lit his dark face up, white teeth behind rough stubble.

"Huh?"

The man leaned back clearly enjoying this. "He was seen with a cat following him around. Tried to get rid of it but hey, he's Garth."

The woman shook her head in disbelieve. "I know hunters with dogs but a cat?"

So those two were hunters. Interesting.

"Not any kind of cat. A fluffy Persian for Christ's sake. He calls it Cupcake."

There was a beat of silence before they both cracked up laughing.

It rang a bell but Victor couldn't remember where he had heard about a hunter and a cat before. But that wasn't the important information. Judging by the things Ellen and the Winchesters talked about, Ellen at least knew. And looking around Victor spotted a few more possible hunters. So what was this? Some meeting place for hunters?

However, the man coming in from the back room definitely was not a hunter. He struggled with the beer he carried and groaned when he finally put it in the corner. Ellen only rolled her eyes.

The man – he must have escaped from the eighties with his mullet hair style and the ripped off vest – wiped the sweat from his forehead with another theatrical groan then he stopped mid-motion when he noticed the Winchesters.

"Well, Sam and Dean." He snagged a beer which Ellen ripped out of his hand without even looking. "And Victor. Nice to meet you in person."

"Should I know you?" Random people knowing his name couldn't be good. But the Winchesters didn't seemed concerned.

"No, but I know you." With a shrug he took Sam's beer and gulped a mouthful down before Sam even could protest. "How do you think they knew you quit the FBI?" He gestured with the bottle between Sam and Dean.

"He's the computer genius." Dean explained, tight grip around his beer bottle. Apparently computer genius equaled hacker and a good one, too. The FBI wasn't a system you just waltz into at least not undetected.

"Got a minute?" Sam asked, looking longingly at the bottle till Ellen took pity on him and handed him another one.

"Sure."

They excused themselves and disappeared into the back leaving Victor with Ellen.

"Ash is … well, Ash." She shrugged and went to serve a table in the other corner. With nothing else to do Victor focused again on the conversation at the table near by.

The man was in the middle of a story. "Should have shot him with his own damn bullets. Thought I wouldn't notice it wasn't silver. Well, when I shot that thing straight in the heart and it kept on coming I knew something was wrong. I'm damn lucky to be alive. No thanks to that bastard."

Silver? Shapeshifter or werewolf, Victor thought not without pride. He had picked up a thing or two in the last weeks. Or they were talking about a creature Victor hadn't even heard about.

The ponytail woman sighed. "Wish Caleb were still alive. He could be an ass, however, when he sold you silver, he sold you silver." She looked around and noticed the Winchesters on their way back to the main room. That had been a short meeting and with the looks on their faces not a satisfying one. "Hey, Winchester. Where do you get your silver bullets? Know a good source?"

Dean came over, Sam close behind him. With a nod he invited Victor to come over, too.

"Nah, make them myself."

Sam snorted. "Some of them."

Wood scraped over the dusty floor when they arranged the chairs to make room for all of them.

With a smirk Dean took a seat. "We crash at Bobby's, occupy his basement and after a week or so he offers us half of his own stock just to get us on the road again."

_I wonder why_, Victor thought. For the first time he could see ponytail's face. She was around Ellen's age and looked a bit like _Sarah Connor_ from _T2_ but maybe that was just the cap and the tank top.

"Sam feels guilty every single time." While Dean grinned like an idiot Sam fiddled with his beer. "But hey, you snugged some rare books out of the old man that way, too." Dean nudged his brother in the side.

"Singer has a soft spot for you two." The man raised his bottle for a salute. "For everybody else trying that he has some buckshot with your ass' name on it. Heard he had a loaded shotgun at the door just in case your old man showed up."

Victor actually flinched. Their dad was a sore spot for both of the Winchesters but Dean just sighed with a sad smile and said: "Good times."

With a bit of a delay they got introduced. Ponytail went by the name Gerry – call me Geraldine and I'll hurt you – Simmons and the man was Henry Foster but everybody just called him Foster.

"They tied you up like a turkey? Oh, man." Foster patted Victor's back comradely while Dean continued to tell the story of their encounter in the motel. Ellen supplied them with beers and shots and did a pretty good job in pretending to not be listening.

"Reminds me of that one time when I were on that hunt with John and Dean." Foster started his own story. "Sam, how old were you? Nine? Ten? Anyway, Sam had to wait in the car while the rest of us scooped out the graveyard." Foster's deep voice brought the story to live and Victor listened in awe. He knew John Winchester had trained his sons form an early age on but hearing this story about a fourteen year old Dean chasing a ghost over a graveyard? What kid deserved that kind of childhood?

"Hey, I saved your sorry ass out there." Dean clarified when Foster brushed over that particular part.

At one point Gerry's phone rang but Victor barely noticed when she stood up to get the call. However, when she came back everybody noticed. With an annoyed growl she slammed into her chair.

"Marc's not coming." She said.

Foster stopped mid-sentence."What? He was supposed to be here like two hours ago. And he tells us now?"

"Looks like." Gerry drowned her shot and grimaced. "Sounded drunk, too."

"Bastard." Both of them stared into their glasses. After a second of silence Dean spoke up.

"Problems?" He asked.

"We're after a group of vampires." Gerry answered with a sigh. "Ten maybe fifteen of them. Think they nest just a day's drive from here."

"And Marc promised to meet us here so we could deal with them together." Foster added and waved for a new round. "Should have known better than to asked that drunken bastard for help."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and then grinned at Victor.

"Hey, Vic." Dean asked playfully. "Wanna kill some vampires?"


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night Ellen kicked them out. With surprise Victor looked around to find out they were the last guests – if he didn't count Ash how was sleeping on one of the pool tables but he got the impression the man was part of the decor. Outside they said goodbye to Gerry and Foster with the promise to meet up in the morning – and no, we won't call at the last second and let you down – and were on their way back to the motel a minute later. The silence in the car gave Victor time to think.

Vampires. He shook his head, it still sounded insane. So far the Winchesters hadn't mentioned vampires but they had talked about werewolves. So, if the thing with the silver bullet through the heart worked for werewolves like in the movies, was it the same with vampires? Burned by sunlight, allergic to garlic, the crosses, wooden stakes through the heart? Even a sharpened stake was a rather blunt weapon, driving it through a person's sternum couldn't be easy. It looked easy in the movies but Victor doubted he could do it without a hammer to force the stake through the bone.

Here he sat thinking about how to kill a vampire and he had not a second of doubt if they were real. His life had gotten weird in the last few weeks. The darkness inside the car hid his grin.

Back at the motel Victor turned towards the door of his room but Dean called him back. Curious he followed the Winchesters into their room.

"Sorry, we practically jumped you with this hunt earlier." Dean admitted while they sat down. Victor got the impression this would turn out to be a serious conversation.

Victor shrugged his shoulders. "We were looking for something to do." He had prayed for something to do, he wasn't ready for another round of pranks. Maybe in eighty years but not now.

"Yeah." Dean rubbed the back of his head. "But this is something completely different. Burning some bones, reciting an exorcism, that's easy."

Thinking about his previous encounters with the supernatural Victor thought that Dean should check the definition of easy. Seriously.

"This is going to be messy." Sam said from his spot at the edge of his bed – there were never enough chairs in this kind of rooms – and it wasn't creepy at all that Sam knew exactly what his brother wanted to say while Victor still had no clue.

"Figured that much." He leaned back in his chair and looked first Sam and then Dean in the eye. "I saw the movies."

"Forget the movies. They're a whole bunch of useless crap. Unless you want yourself get killed, that is." Dean grinned – he was enjoying this far more than Victor liked – then he looked at his brother and Sam took over.

"Forget garlic and crosses, they do nothing." Sam named the common believes. "Vampires don't like sunlight, it's too bright I guess, but it won't kill them."

"So the stake through the heart is a myth, too?" Victor guessed. That part he hadn't looked forward to. He'd really prefer to take them down with a bullet or something.

"The only way to kill a vampire is to decapitate it." Dean flashed him a grin but became serious the next second. "This will be close and personal and the question is, can you do it?"

"What? Of course I can." If the Winchesters could do it than he could do it, too. However, he wasn't sure if chopping somethings head off was a better option than the stake but he'd be damned if he backed off now.

Sam leaned forward looking him in the eye with real concern and understanding written all over his face. "There's a reason why cops have to see a psychiatrist after they had to shoot somebody."

"I don't need to be pampered." He wasn't a baby, an amateur yes but not a baby. Maybe he hadn't fully realized what he was getting into but he had seen the pictures from St. Louis. This was a dirty job he had signed up for and he knew it.

"Can you kill something with a human face?" Dean asked frankly.

"Not long a go I'd have said: If it's your face." Victor answered without missing a beat. It got him a hollow laugh from Dean and a muttered "Don't say it, just don't." from Sam.

Victor raised an eyebrow at Sam. "What?"

Sam shifted uncomfortable on the edge of the bed. "There are worse thing than to get killed." He said without meeting his eye. He wasn't looking at Dean either. "Vampires can turn you."

"OK, I try to not get bitten."

"Nah." Dean waved off his brothers concerns. "They have nasty teeth, a second set like a shark." He illustrated it with a gesture around his mouth. "But a bite isn't the problem here. Blood contact on the other hand … let's just say you don't want vampire blood in your mouth or an open wound."

Victor thought about the information for a second. "Is there a cure?"

"Except a clear cut through your neck?" Dean shot back. "No."

"And we have to chop their heads off to kill them?"

"Jep."

Assuming a vampire had as much blood as a human there would be over a gallon spraying out off the body. And they were expecting ten to fifteen bloodsuckers.

"We'll wade ankle-deep in vampire blood." Victor let out a groan.

"Like I said." Sam shot him an apologizing smile. "Messy."

"You're still in?" Dean asked still leaving him an opening to get out of this hunt.

"I'm in." What else could he say?

After that was settled they went to bed but Victor couldn't sleep for a long time. Despite what he had said earlier he wasn't sure if he could stand face to face to somebody and kill him – it. But he guessed he'd find the answer to that question when he actually had to swing the machete.

The next day they followed Gerry's truck and Victor had time to think about their new companions.

"OK, Gerry and Foster." He said when the conversation died down after a while. "Who's the master and who's the young padawan?"

The brothers shared a look for a second and then burst out laughing.

"Dude, this is not _Star Wars_." Dean snorted but thought about it for a moment. "But light sabers would be awesome for this job. You know, cauterizing the wound so the body can't bleed out." Another moment of silence while Sam shot him an amused look. "Maybe I could electrify a machete ..."

"No!" Sam interrupted him. "No electrified weapons."

"You're a killjoy, you know that?" Dean actually pouted. "You're breaking my heart here, man."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

To Victor's surprise Dean dropped it. Uncomfortable silence filled the car and Victor sensed another story behind this but he didn't ask.

"They flew solo most of the time." Sam finally said. "Gerry and Foster." He clarified when Victor just stared at him. "Went on hunts with others only occasional. Guess they found they could trust each other enough to give it a try."

"They are both still alive so it worked out, I guess." Dean added.

What kind of world had he entered where success were measured by how long you stayed alive, Victor wondered.

They arrived in the late afternoon and checked in in a motel just outside of town.

"How do you know they're here?" Victor asked. They had met up in the Winchesters' room to plot their next step.

"They found a couple of dead bodies, mauled and bled out." Gerry answered drawing a machete over a grindstone. The sound send shivers down Victor's spine. He guessed that was why she did it.

"And nobody thinks vampires?" He had seen enough crime scenes to know no blood was odd and there had to be some occult freaks who would jump at the vampire idea.

"As long as there are no Hollywood puncture wounds at the neck everybody goes for wild animal." Gerry answered with a shrug.

"So, how do we find them?" He doubted they would find them in a crypt lying in coffins.

"By checking the bars." Dean rubbed his hands in excitement. "Never met a vampire that could stay away from booze."

"You three do that." Foster spoke up for the first time. When it came to business talk he seemed to be the silent one, listening, analyzing. "Vic and I, we'll go on a supply run."

The way he said it indicated he wasn't talking about groceries.

"What do we need?" Victor asked and just knew he wouldn't like the answer.

"You haven't told him?" Foster raised an eyebrow. The Winchesters shook their heads in sync. Hell, if he knew how they did that.

Fosters grin grew brighter and he slapped Victor's back. "You and I, my friend, we'll get ourselves some dead man's blood."


	5. Chapter 5

"Dead man's blood?" Victor asked while he got into the passenger seat of Gerry's truck. "Is that a metaphor or something?" When Sam had prepared the ritual to summon Scully he had used some herbs with fancy names but he doubted they were talking about herbs here.

"It's exactly what it sounds like." Foster kept his eyes on the road so Victor couldn't really see his face but the wrinkles deepened as if he was grinning and he made a soft chuckling sound. At least one of them had fun.

Victor answered with a drawn-out "Okay" while he tried to wrap his mind around this new information.

"Two questions." He asked after a minute while Foster watched him out of the corner of his eye. He didn't even try to be discreet. "Why do we need it and where do we get it?"

"Good." Foster nodded in approval.

"What?" Why did he get the feeling of being tested? Again?

"Straight to the point." Foster shot him a grin. "No freaking out about the blood or the dead part. I wondered why the Winchesters would drag you along but I'm beginning to understand."

Victor wasn't sure if that was meant as a compliment. He kinda liked the man, however, he knew absolutely nothing about him.

"So, the blood." Victor prompted.

"Right, the blood." Foster ran a hand down his stubble cheek. "It's poisonous for vampires. It doesn't kill them but it slows them down. We'll carry poisoned knives and syringes with blood." He brought the truck to an halt at the side of the street and killed the engine. "Heard the Winchesters used poisoned crossbow arrows at some point but I'm not sure if that isn't exaggerated." He shifted in his seat to face Victor. In the dim light from the street lamps Victor could only see the glint of his eyes.

"Sticking around with the Winchesters is the best thing you can do." He said. "Dean is a born hunter and Sam is not far behind. Watch and learn and maybe you'll survive in this business but don't believe every war-story Dean has to tell. He's a good hunter but he tends to exaggerate. Craziest thing I heard out of his mouth was that he claimed he and Sam had a hunt in a prison."

That rang a bell. "Green River?"

"Jep, that's the one." Foster nodded. "He told you already."

"That too." Victor had listened to that story while he had been cuffed to a bed while a freshly stitched up Sam had slept in the other one. Which felt like a lifetime ago. "But I was the one who arrested them. Back then I had no idea but I can assure you, yes, they hunted a ghost in that prison."

Foster whistled and said nothing for a while.

"Aren't we supposed to get some blood?" Victor asked when Foster showed no intention to start the car again.

"We're already there." Foster pointed towards a building across the street. "But it looks like somebody is working late."

Behind a window Victor noticed light, the rest of the building was dark. A single lamp illuminated a sign at the front door.

"A funeral home?"

"The easiest place." Foster replied with a grin. "You could try a morgue in a hospital or a coroner at a police department. I recommend that order, funeral homes usually don't have much security."

So they waited. Gerry and the Winchesters had more fun checking the bars that was for sure. If this guy over there was working a night shift it would be a long night for them with nothing to do than sitting in the car. Great. But maybe Victor could use the time to get to know his new partner better. And like back at the _Roadhouse_ Foster only needed a prompt to start talking. How he had met John Winchester for the first time – crazy son of a bitch but one of the best hunters he ever knew – or how he had ended up with Gerry as a partner. They had been on the run after a successful but messy hunt and she had asked him politely – Hey, Foster. How about watching each others asses for a while? – to become her partner for a hunt or two. Had been six years since then.

"So, you and Gerry." Victor started. "I noticed you two share a room."

"One room is cheaper than two." Was his blunt answer. "We're not lovers or anything if that's what you're thinking." He thought about it for a moment. "Living in each others pocket doesn't leave much room for privacy, just ask the Winchesters. There's nothing Gerry has I haven't seen and vice versa. It kinda comes with the job. Believe me, if you have to choose between bleeding to death from a claw mark at your inner tight or somebody holding your private parts out of the way to stitch you up, you will choose the latter. "

Back at that motel a lifetime ago Victor had had a front raw seat to this part of the life of a hunter. Dean had stitched Sam's side back together and Victor had seen other scars. One just blow the navel disappearing under Sam's waistband. Now he wondered for the first time who had taken care of that.

"Finally." Foster interrupted his thoughts. Victor looked up at the now completely dark building. Two minutes later a car drove away. They waited another ten minutes before Victor and Foster broke into the funeral home. Victor's first break and entry. It was kinda anticlimactic.

Foster had the door open in a few seconds and they made their way through a dark corridor. This area was for visitors and they didn't bother to look around, they wouldn't find here what they were looking for. Deeper into the building the furnishings changed from discreet comfortable to practical. It smelled medical like in an hospital but this had the specific linger of every morgue Victor had ever been to. And this time his job wasn't to watch and listen to what the coroner had to offer.

"Here." Foster aimed the beam of his flashlight at a metal table framed with a channel leading to the drain at one end of the table. Victor could picture a body laying here with tubes stuck into it to exchange the body fluids with embalming ones. With a shudder he turned from the table to the cooling chambers in the wall behind.

"Ready?" Foster asked but didn't wait for an answer. He opened one of the chambers and ten minutes later they were back in the car with more blood than Victor thought they would ever need.

"Think the others have as much fun as we have?" Victor asked and rubbed his palms at his jeans. They had used gloves but it still felt icky.

"Let's find out." Foster started the car.

They found the others in the last bar they had checked with no results but beer bottles in hand.

"Next time I volunteer for the bar tour." Victor announced and took the seat next to Sam. "But at least we were successful." He didn't even try to hide his satisfaction.

"Hey, you're the one who has to learn the basics." Dean shrugged from across the table. "And it was fun, wasn't it?"

"Drain a dead body." Victor shook his head. "Oh, the fun."

"Hey, try to drain an alive body and you know what fun is." Gerry raised her bottle with a knowing expression.

The waitress brought more beer for the two newcomers but Victor still had the smell of the funeral home in his nose and the beer just tasted like death. His thoughts were running in circles over vampires and blood and the quite real possibility to end on one of those metal tables very soon.

The bar was crowded – they had to raise their voices to understand each other – so talking about the case was out of question. Small talk it was and Victor leaned back to listen to the usual "Where have you been?" and "What have you seen?" people exchanged when they met only once in a while. Apparently the Winchesters weren't the only ones coming around a lot. Behind every place mentioned Victor could sense a hunt. They never went into details – wrong place and way to many wrong ears for that – but Victor got the picture.

"Excuse me." Sam squeezed himself through the narrow space between Victor's chair and somebody's at the next table. Dean followed his brother with his eyes till his ridiculous large figure were swallowed by the crowd.

"Too bad you two aren't girls." Victor couldn't help but tease.

"What?" Dean's voice nearly cracked.

"It's an unwritten rule that girls never visit the restroom alone."

Dean shot him a death glare while Gerry chuckled and Foster slapped his back with a "Got him."

"Somebody has to watch out for that kid." If he didn't knew better Victor would have sworn Dean's cheeks went pink for a second.

"Okay guys." Gerry finished her beer. "How about heading back to the motel? It's getting late."

"Mom says bedtime." Foster stood up and with a practiced move he was out of the way of her well aimed elbow. "You're getting slow, old lady." However, he had the sense to make a break for the front door.

"I'm showing you how's the old one her." Gerry muttered while she followed him outside. Dean and Victor stayed back to wait for Sam.

"What's keeping him so long?" Dean asked.


	6. Chapter 6

The men's room had two stalls and three pissoirs and a window to small for a kid to crawl through. And absolutely no hiding spot for a man like Sam Winchester.

"Damn!" Dean bunched one of the stall doors with his fist and with the other hand dug out his cell phone. Sam didn't answer.

Next to the restrooms, however, there was the back door leading to the alley behind the bar. Between some dumpsters they found Sam's phone.

"Damn motherfuckers. I'll kill them, I'll kill them all." While Dean was frantically searching the alley – with no result so far – Victor called back Gerry and Foster.

"Sam is what?" Gerry yelled into his ear and Victor had to hold the phone at arm's length while Gerry let out a string of very unladylike words.

"Missing." Victor repeated when she stopped for a second to breath. "Sam's missing."

"Be right there." That was Foster while in the background Victor could still hear Gerry swearing.

Together they searched the area more thoroughly and questioned the guests and staff but nobody had seen anything.

"This kid is a fucking giant, how can somebody just grab him without anybody noticing?" Dean was near hyperventilating and he seemed not capable of standing still. In the parking lot they stood next to their cars, unwilling to leave but without an idea what to do next.

"Dean." Victor tried to snap Dean out of it but Dean was in his own little world. "Dean!" He shouted a sharp command and the boy snapped to attention.

"What?" He glared at him.

"Focus. You watched him when he left for the restroom." His voice trailed off but Dean got what he was thinking. Hell, if anybody would have noticed something out of the ordinary it would have been Dean.

While Dean was thinking – which didn't stop him from pacing – Victor tried to remember the situation right before Sam had left. Did somebody follow him? Victor couldn't tell.

This was bad, really bad. But as far as they knew this didn't have to be the vampires. Some sick human psycho could have grabbed Sam. Although Victor didn't believe that for a second. They were talking about the guy who had unarmed taken out two SWAT guys. No way somebody just grabbed him. Sam would have put up one hell of a fight. It would have drawn attention that was for sure. So vampires, maybe. Most likely. Victor tasted bile and an icy fist clenched his stomach.

"There were those kids." Dean said after what felt like an eternity. "A girl and two guys. Didn't fit right in, looked a bit too emo for this place."

"Okay." Gerry was at Dean's side but knew better than to put her arm on his shoulder also she looked like she wanted to. "That's a start. We'll go in and ask for those kids."

"Maybe they're just kids." Dean shook his head and looked just lost. Most of the time it was easy to ignore how young he still was. Now he looked like a kid who lost his puppy. Worse, he lost his little brother.

"Yeah, but maybe not. Let's find out." Gerry tugged him at his arm and together they made their way back inside. "We will find him." She said and with a glance over her shoulder she told Foster and Victor to stay back. Somebody had to keep an eye out for the people in the lot anyway.

"Shit." Foster kicked the tire of Gerry's truck.

"How ..." Victor started but couldn't quite bring the words out. He had to clear his throat before he could start again. "If the vampires have him ... what are his chances?" Is he still alive, was the question he didn't dare to ask. Foster didn't met his eye.

"Vampires feed off their victims for days." He stated the fact, trying to hide his emotions. "But if they know he's a hunter ..." Foster didn't have to finish the sentence. The second the vampires found out Sam was dead. It was that simple.

"We'll find him. Dean will find him." Foster said after a minute. "And he'll kill everything that's threatening his little brother."

Victor nodded there was no doubt about that. Nothing survived standing between Dean Winchester and his little brother that part about their relationship was hard to miss.

"But if ..." Now Foster struggled with the words. "If we don't find Sam in time." So Foster couldn't say the bad word either. "We'll have to watch Dean really closely. I don't know what that boy would do but it would be something stupid."

Victor had no reply for that. He had seen an agitated Dean running in circles while his brother was incommunicado and at that time Sam had only needed some time to think. Now it was obvious that he was in real danger. Or already dead – there he had thought the bad word – and it made him sick that he wanted to throw up.

"I'll keep an eye on Dean." Victor promised and thought of the arsenal in the trunk. If Dean wanted to off himself he would do it.

That, however, was something to think about after they had found Sam. And after the bad guys were dead. Foster handed him a machete which Victor hold pressed to his leg. No need to cause a panic but it felt good to be armed. If it would do him any good time would show.

Staying in sight Victor and Foster split up and made a round through the parking lot. The place was still busy and with all that people around somebody could carry Sam away without them noticing. Assuming Sam was still somewhere near by. The kidnappers had a head start so maybe they were out of town already. But they had to check anyway and at the moment Victor had nothing better to do.

There were some vans and trucks big enough to hide an unconscious body but nothing stood out. There wasn't a blinking sign pointing in the right direction. At this moment Victor really missed the FBI. Back then he only had to make one call and everything would get rolling. One "agent missing" and there would be road blocks and cars patrolling and a whole bunch of people searching for the missing agent. They would use the news and would set up a hotline. Nothing of that would happen now. It was only him and Gerry and Foster and a very furious Dean. No backup was coming and that sucked royally.

Suddenly there was shouting. It came from the back alley where they had found Sam's phone. Victor ran and out of the corner of his eye he saw Foster catching up with him. Skidding around the corner Victor spotted Gerry at the other end heading towards a house. The door swung against the wall and for a second Victor saw Dean sprinting up some stairs.

"Dammit boy." Victor said through gritted teeth but he kept running. For a second Gerry just stood at the door unsure if she should wait for Victor and Foster or back up Dean. With a wave telling them to hurry, she disappeared into the door shouting Dean's name.

Victor and Foster reached the door at the same time and they made their way up the stairs together. It was the back entrance of some kind of shop Victor noticed. Judging by the piles of garbage and dirt – and of course the broken windows and kicked in door – the building had been abandoned a long time ago. The only light came from a single street lamp through the broken windows and Victor had to be careful where to set his feet on the stairs. Above he heard movement and some shouting and he adjusted his grip around the machete.

"Left." Foster pointed down a hallway, through a door at the end shone light and shadows ghosted over the wall.

"Your blood is the life ... and it shall be mine." Said a deep voice, however, if Victor had to guess he'd say the owner of that voice had not to shave on a regular basis yet. If it weren't Sam's life at stake he'd laugh at this cliche scenario. In step with Foster he made his way down the hallway.

"Son of a bitch." Dean growled and it sounded way more terrifying than the other one. Something crashed and with a yelp Gerry flew through the door and landed right at Victor's feet. He reached down to help her up but she was on her feet already. Together they entered the room.

It looked like a place a homeless would stay for the night. A sleeping bag in one corner with dirty clothes and wrappers of cheap junk food laying around. From the opposite corner it smelled like somebody had been to lazy to go to another room to take a leak and in the middle some candles substituted for a camp fire. The owner of the sleeping bag sat with his back against the wall, his throat ripped out and dead eyes greeting the newcomers.

No sign of the vampire or Sam or Dean for that matter.

"Shit." Gerry crossed the room without looking at the body and leaned out of the broken window. "There they are." She pointed and climbed out.

Beneath the window there was a flat roof and Victor followed her without a second thought. A fight with a vampire on a roof for sure wasn't a good idea so he just kept on rolling, only thinking of catching up with Dean and the Dracula wannabe and hopefully Sam.

The trip over the roof was short. Through another window they went and down some stairs and then they stood in another alley. All three of them were running in circles. They didn't see or hear anything. Dean and the vampire – vampires? Victor wasn't sure – just had vanished.

"Hell, now we lost Dean, too." Gerry run a hand through her hair in frustration.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N Warning: There is mild torture of a teen in this chapter. Nothing explicit or graphic.

* * *

Suddenly Gerry's phone rang.

"Dean?" She didn't even look at the caller ID or let the one on the other end say a word. "Where are you?"

Apparently it was Dean. Victor let out a sigh of relief.

"Got it. Be there in a minute." She ended the call and turned to Foster. "Get the truck and we need the blood. He's down that way in a backyard. Hurry."

Foster didn't have to be told twice. He took off running while Victor followed Gerry in the opposite direction.

"He got the vampire?" Victor had trouble to keep up with Gerry – who was what, ten years older than him? – he really should start to exercise more. As soon as they had survived this.

"Yeah." Gerry said with a sharp breath. "But without the blood he can't hold him for long." They rounded a corner and then another one and soon Victor had lost every sense of direction he ever had. But Gerry seemed to know where she was going. She, however, had been on the bar tour, they had probably scooped out the area before going in. Which made sense but was something Victor wouldn't have thought off. Another thing he had learned today. Awesome. He gritted his teeth and followed Gerry.

They reached the backyard and first Victor saw nothing out of the ordinary. Dumpsters, dirt and some dead plants but then somebody called from the shadows.

"Over here." Dean stood up to let them know where he was. At his feet lay a lump which could be a body. Or a bag of garbage, in the dark it was hard to tell.

"You got the blood?" He asked and bend down to stab the lump with his knife when it started to move. It groaned in a much too human voice.

"Foster should be here any second." Gerry was at his side but kept her distance from the struggling thing on the ground.

"Good." Dean stabbed it again. "This won't work for long." Another stab.

"I'll kill you." Said the lump and tried to get away from the knife but Dean just followed eyes never leaving his victim. Blood dripped from the blade in his hand.

"I'll kill you first." He said and kicked it in the side. "But first I've some questions."

The vampire tried to jump him – for a second the teeth were visible and, holly crap, it looked just like a shark – but it made contact with Dean's fist against it's temple rather than to rip out Dean's throat.

"Where's Foster?" Dean yelled, hardly keeping the vampire under control.

"I'm here." Out of an ally Foster ran towards them, a machete in one hand and a syringe in the other. Dean stabbed the vampire one last time and while it was down Foster shot the whole syringe into it's neck. When the vampire went down this time it didn't got back up.

"Is it dead?" Victor asked and stepped closer to get a look at that thing.

"Just sleeping." Dean was already searching it's pockets. "Let's get somewhere private to ask him some questions." Calm and collected, the fear for his brother now well hidden behind a mask of professionalism. Now, however, they had something to work with.

Dean and Foster carried the unconscious body to the truck Foster had parked right around the corner.

"OK." Foster secured the body with plastic stripes and climbed into the passenger seat. "We should get somewhere more private."

Gerry started the engine. "I saw a place. Just follow us."

Dean banged his fist against the hood in agreement, then turned on his heel to run back to the bar where he had left the Impala. More running. Victor bit back a snarky comment and kept his breath. He needed it to stay close to Dean.

"Is that your blood?" In the dim light inside the car he got his first good look at Dean. He remembered what Dean had said. About blood contact, about turning into one of those things.

"Not mine." He shot him a grin but with blood splattered all over his face he looked like a maniac. They followed Gerry's truck out of town to what seemed to be an old sawmill.

Always look out for abandoned buildings they could come in handy, Victor made a mental note.

Once inside everybody knew exactly what to do and Victor just tried to not stand in the way. He looked around to avoid to look at their prisoner. They were in some kind of office area and besides dust and broken windows it looked just like the workers would be back in the morning. They even had left the filing cabinets full.

Dean and Foster carried the still unconscious vampire inside while Gerry mixed some herbs and other stuff in a bowl and lit it. The smell made Victor nauseous and his eyes water.

"What's that for?" He asked with one hand covering his mouth.

"Masking our scent." Gerry answered. "So the other vampires won't find us."

"Victor." Dean shouted over his shoulder. "There are halogen lamps in the car, get them." He threw him the keys while his attention already was back to his prisoner. Together with Foster he tied him to a chair. And wasn't that familiar.

"Be right back." Victor announced and hurried out of the room. He wasn't sure what he had expected. Some bloodthirsty monster with fangs and glowing eyes, something right out of a horror movie. What he hadn't expected was a teenager with pimples.

Swearing under his breath he opened the trunk of the Impala and got the lamps. It was still in the middle of the night and the sawmill had been probably shut down years ago. So no power, no light. But hunters were prepared.

He brought the lamps back in just in time to watch the vampire waking up. It was just a kid. Sixteen, seventeen at most. What the hell were they doing here?

Pictures from the crime scenes in St. Louis flashed in his mind. He knew Dean didn't do it but the similarity was hard to miss. Dean maybe didn't torture the girls back then but he was absolutely capable of doing it, Victor realized.

On a desk Dean had an open jar of blood and his knife was smeared with the thick liquid. His intention was clear. He would torture the kid to get the information he needed. To find his brother.

Foster and Gerry stood aside, wary, machetes in hand ready to intervene if anything went wrong. They didn't seem to have a problem with the age of their victim.

Victor swallowed and kept himself busy by setting up the lamps. In the hard halogen light the kid seemed even younger.

_Keep it together, Vic,_ he instructed himself. _You saw the teeth and the dead homeless guy. This isn't a kid, it's a monster._ But it was hard to believe. _Can you kill something with a human face?_, Dean's voice in his head mocked him.

"You with us again?" Dean grabbed the kid's hair and forced him to look him in the eye.

"Mortal, you will suffer for this." The kid tried to sound dangerous but it sounded more like a line out of a cheap movie, barely masking his fear.

"Later." Dean let go of his hair and the kid glared at him. "For now I've some questions. If you have any instinct of self preservation, you'll tell me what I want to know."

"You can't harm me, I'm immortal. I'm the wolf and you're just poodles." He pouted while he looked from one hunter to the other till his gaze settled once again on Dean. It would have been more impressive without him trembling.

"Newsflash. I can harm you and I can kill you." Dean stepped back to hold his blood dripping knife into the vampire's line of view. "You know what dead man's blood is?"

The kid just glared at him.

"Let's start easy. What's your name?"

"You may address me as Edward, mortal." Was he channeling Dracula? Victor bit back a snort. This kid was the only one who could tell them where Sam was.

"Edward?" Dean shook his head. "What kind of parents name their kid Edward?"

"It's the name I chose for my eternal life." Edward answered stiff, wide eyes on the knife.

"Alright, Eddy." Dean was back to business. "Your folks have kidnapped my brother and that kinda pisses me off." Which was the understatement of the year. "Is he alive?"

He was face to face with the kid and Victor felt sorry for Edward. Dean could burn a hole into his skull with that glare.

Edward snapped at him with full fangs. Surprised Victor flinched back but Dean just moved smoothly out of range. Without breaking eye contact Dean cut Edward's arm with the bloody knife. Eddy screamed. Around the cut Victor saw black lines spreading under the skin.

"Is he alive?" Dean repeated the question.

"What is this?" Edward asked still gasping in pain. "Nothing can harm me."

"They didn't tell you about this kind of blood? Too bad." Dean clicked his tongue. "Don't worry I've plenty. And we have all night." Another cut and the kid screamed again. This time he couldn't hold back his teeth. It looked so wrong in his young face. Victor closed his eyes which made it worse. Now he was only hearing the agony. He opened his eyes again but kept them on the floor. It worked for a second or so. Like a train wreck it was horrible but he couldn't get his eyes off it.

For a minute there was only Edward's harsh breathing mixed with whimpers of pain.

With clenched fists Victor stood in the back and fought the urge to stop this. This wasn't right, this couldn't be right.

"Is he alive?" Dean yelled into Edward's face.

"Alive! He's alive." Edward's was voice high with fear and pain. "He's alive, I swear he's alive."

"It isn't so hard, isn't it?" Dean actually smiled and it was one of the creepiest things Victor had ever seen.

"And now you'll tell me where your nest is, how many of you suckers there are and how many victims you hold captive."


	8. Chapter 8

Eddy talked. Once he started the words bubbled out of his mouth so fast Dean had to repeat his questions a few times till he got an understandable answer. Apparently the nest – or clan as Eddy preferred – had moved into town a couple of weeks ago. LeFanu, their master, had turned a girl but otherwise they were just enjoying their time by hitting some bars and grab something to eat now and then. Grabbing something to eat turned out to be kidnapping people and feeding of them for days till the victims died.

At the bar when they had grabbed Sam Eddy's job had been to stay back and to make sure nobody followed them. That was why he had been still there while the other vampires had already brought Sam to their hideout.

"Where?" Dean asked his face still splattered with Eddy's dried blood.

"An old farm outside the town." Eddy squeaked.

"How many?"

"Thirteen. My master has thirteen children."

Victor didn't get it. At times Eddy spoke like an ordinary teen and other times he sounded like a bad actor out of a horror movie from the fifties.

"Your master there, too?"

"Yes. Yes, he's there. He's always there." Eddy's eyes were never far from the knife in Dean's hand but since the kid had started talking Dean seemingly had forgot he had it still in his hand.

"How is the place guarded?" Dean went methodically through his questions. At one point he even cut Eddy's arm free to let him draw a plan of the farm. The kid screamed like Dean was about to cut his arm off when the knife came near him.

Victor stood in the back and watched. Everything inside him told him to turn around and run. This couldn't be right. It was a kid for Christ's sake. A kid. A vampire kid which had seen way to many horror movies but still a kid. And Victor didn't allow himself to think of the moment Dean had gotten his last answer. No way they could let the kid go.

Victor tasted bile in his mouth. He wasn't sure what got to him – the smell of the burned herbs, the blood and he honestly thought he could smell the kid's fear – but he had to get outside. He needed fresh air.

Victor dashed out of the room.

The cool night air dried the sweat covering his face and he just gasped for air. This wasn't what he had signed up for.

Thinking back, Dean had known. He had tried to give Victor a way out. First at the motel where he had told him to stay with his normal life and to not asked too many questions and later after they had met Foster and Gerry. Because Dean knew and Sam, too. Foster and Gerry, they all knew what this would be like. Only Victor had had no idea.

"This isn't what we have expected." Suddenly Foster was at his side. "But show me one hunt turning out like expected." He laughed an hard and clearly not amused laugh.

"He's just a kid." Victor brought the words out between harsh breaths. His stomach was still cramping and he wondered what Foster would think of him if he'd puke on his shoes. "And I'm a pussy." He added as soon he was sure to not lose his dinner.

"Yes, he is just a kid." Foster leaned against the wall and looked up into the sky. Outside of the town there was no light to dim the stars. Victor couldn't remember when he had seen them last so bright. "But you're not a pussy. This is your first gig with something that looks human, right?"

Victor nodded because he didn't trust his stomach. Not just yet.

"And of course it's not just something looking human, it's a kid. That sucks." Foster shoved his hands into his pockets and stared into the sky.

"Yeah." Victor mirrored his position. From inside he heard a scream but it was far away and he could pretend he didn't hear it.

"Skinwalker." Foster said after a moment.

"What?"

"The first thing with a human face I killed." He explained still not looking at Victor. "It was a skinwalker. Turned out to be a man I knew, I liked him, we had a few beers together while he told me about the legends of the area."

Victor didn't know what to say.

"Seemed to be a nice guy. Didn't stop him from trying to rip my heart out."

"So you killed him."

"Attacked me in his animal form and I didn't know it was him." For a moment he was lost in thoughts. "But then I noticed a cut on him where I had nicked the skinwalker and I knew. And he knew that I knew. I had to kill him before he could turn." Another pause. "Had nightmares for a while. Sometimes even after all those years I still see his face in my dreams."

There was no way to respond to that so Victor just nodded. After a silent minute Foster spoke again.

"Don't let Dean's attitude fool you." He said in a low voice as if he feared to be caught by Dean while he spread secrets about him. "Yes, there is no limit to what he'd do to get Sam back, to keep him save. I think that scares him. And I think it scares Sam, too. But it wouldn't stop Sam from doing the same thing for Dean. I know this boys a long time now and I'm proud to say I've got a glance behind Dean's mask once or twice. He's very good in masking his emotions but I can tell you, this kid's face will haunt him for a while." Foster stopped and Victor wasn't sure if the other man regretted his openness. "However, if you like being alive and in one piece you better don't let Dean know I told you this."

"Told him what?" Came Dean's voice from the door.

"Nothing." Foster hurried to say and Dean raised an eyebrow but didn't ask. He had other things on his mind.

"We should take a look at that farm." Dean was already at his car's trunk putting the lamps back. Apparently they were done here. Victor swallowed.

"The k...vampire ... is he ...?" Damn, he couldn't even ask the question.

Dean looked up and locked eyes with him. "Dead." He said and hold his gaze for a few seconds longer. Then he slid into the driver's seat while Gerry and Foster got into their truck.

"You coming or what?" Dean asked fingers drumming on the wheel. Victor hurried to get into the car. In his current state Dean's patience was even shorter fused than usual, if Victor needed to long he'd just drive off without him.

Gerry took the lead and Dean followed her.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't ..." Victor started but had no idea what he wanted to say. Sorry, I couldn't stand seeing you torturing a kid? Chopping off his head?

"I know." Dean shot him a honest to god sympathizing smile. "I'd be worried if you could have stand it."

The farm was on the other side of the town and it took over an hour to get there. They parked a mile away – no need to let the vampires know they were coming. In the east Victor saw the first signs of dawn. It had been a long night.

The last all-nighter he had pulled had been in collage and even then it had been an experience he hadn't been keen to repeat. Now he felt hardly tired at all. Adrenalin, he guessed and hoped it would keep him going just a little while longer. Looking around he saw the same mixture of exhaustion and grim determent on the other faces, too.

"They'll sleep through the daylight." Dean said searching through the arsenal in the trunk. Armed with two machetes – in sheaths on his thighs like a desperado would carry his guns – smaller knives smeared with dead man's blood and syringes hidden all over his body.

Victor still had his machete but Dean gave him an extra knife and two syringes. This time he wouldn't chicken out, Victor promised himself. He really hoped this would turn out to be easier when the thing he had to kill wasn't helpless tied to a chair. Self defense, that he could do. But he avoided to think about the question if going in with the clear intention to kill counted as self defense.

When the others were armed too they walked the short distance till they got a good view of the farm.

Laying in the damp grass Victor got his first look at the farm. Three cars in the front but there had to be more. Fourteen people needed more to get around. Right on cue another vehicle made it's way to the main building. A van. Five people got out and from the distance Victor could only tell that they were young. The wind carried their voices to them. Not clear enough to make out words but Victor recognized the light chatter of young people. They had a good time, maybe coming right from a party. Teenagers, enjoying themselves.

"I hate this job." Victor mumbled into his beard quiet enough so the others couldn't hear him. Or so he hoped.

"In times like this, we all hate our jobs." Foster answered in the same low voice. They watched the vampires disappearing into the main building.

A barn and some stables, a shed at the side. Victor wondered where they kept their victims. Where Sam was.

"We wait a few hours till we're sure they're asleep." Dean said gnawing at his bottom lip. He clearly didn't like the plan but it was their best option. So they waited.


	9. Chapter 9

"Vic, wake up." Dean's voice woke him.

"'M not sleeping." Victor mumbled while he tried to figure out why he wasn't in his bed. Grass was tickling his nose and his clothes were damp. It took him a second to recall the previous night.

Sam. The vampires had Sam. That thought brought him to full attention in a heartbeat. Rubbing his eyes he looked around.

Foster shot him a smile but it looked strained, Gerry's and Dean's faces were emotionless masks and they all looked way to tired. The sun was up and a glance at his watch told Victor that it was near nine. Had he really slept for hours while Sam was down there in the hands of vampires?

_Great, Vic. Really great. Sleeping on the job. _He avoided Dean's eyes.

"Are we going in now?" He asked and cleared his dry throat, had he snored, too?

"As soon as you are up for it, princess." Dean said but there was no heat behind his words.

"We'll check the barn first." Gerry pointed towards the building. Then she looked Victor straight in the eye. "You've a machete, use it or they'll kill you."

Victor adjusted his grip, the machete lay heavy in his hand and he swallowed thickly but he nodded.

"Let's go." With that Dean stood up and made his way towards the barn. They ran ducked and used the few trees to block the view from the main house. But if somebody just happened to look out of a window they were hard to miss.

Like sitting ducks, Victor thought and just hoped that the vampires were asleep like they were supposed to be.

They reached the barn and everything kept quiet. Victors nerves were singing with tension and some part of him wished for the vampires to attack already.

"Clear." Dean whispered after a quick glance through the open door. Seeing no immediate danger they slipped in. The smell told Victor what they'd find long before he saw the bodies.

"Here they dump the leftovers." Gerry said examining the corpses. It had been warm the last few days and Victor silently volunteered to stay back and cover their backs.

Dean, however, strode directly towards the back corner where the corpses lay in the shadow.

"Sam?" He asked Gerry who already had a closer look.

"No." She answered relief clear in her voice. "Sam isn't here. Everybody here has been dead for at least two or three days."

A quick search told them that there were no vampires hidden somewhere in the barn. The smell alone would drive every breathing creature away, which let Victor wonder if vampires had to breathe. A hysterical laugh build up in his throat but he bit it back. Don't panic, he told himself and after a few breaths – he tried to ignore the smell – he had himself under control again.

Next was the stable but beside empty stalls and old straw they found nothing. Same for the shed.

"So they're all in the house." Dean said standing at the entrance of the stable but from his position he was hidden from the house. "Let's get around and see how many doors it has."

Silently the crossed the open ground between the stable and the house and for some reason Victor expected to get shot. Nowadays everybody carried a gun, right? It would make sense for the vampires to have at least one guard with a gun especially when they were trapped in the house by the sunlight.

Nothing happened. They reached the house, made their way around, counted three entries – front door, back door and what seemed to be a root cellar which was locked from the inside – and nobody attacked them.

Meanwhile Victor was covered in sweat and his muscles were tense like a steel spring. He was ready to snap.

"OK." Dean whispered. "Vic and I front door. Foster and Gerry back door." They nodded their agreement and without another word they split up.

"Try to kill them in their sleep." Dean said and opened the door. Dim light and cool air greeted them and for a second they just stood there and waited for their eyes to adjust to the twilight.

Stairs led to the upper floor and four doors – two at each side – led into other rooms. From behind one of the doors Victor heard movement and he hoped it was Gerry and Foster but they didn't wait to find out.

Dean tiptoed to the first door on the right and mouthed "one, two, three" before he opened it. Machete ready Victor entered the room.

Fourteen vampires. The house wasn't small but not that big. So fourteen vampires had to sleep somewhere. Victor knew that, however, that didn't prepare him for the sight greeting him when he entered the room. It looked like a teenage girl's slumber party. A girl – around Eddy's age – slept on a couch, a boy was sitting in a chair with his feet on another one and three other kids were sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor.

Dean pointed him towards the girl on the couch while he got into position above one of the floor sleepers. From his point of view Victor could only see the kid's hair and he didn't want to see more. He focused on the girl he had to kill and it didn't make it better. Chestnut hair and an innocent face, sleeping oblivious to the man standing above her with a machete in his hand. Victor hold the machete up to take a good swing and waited for Dean's command.

"Make it quick." Dean mouthed more than he was saying and at that second Victor knew he couldn't do it. Couldn't swing the machete and cut this sweet little girl's head off. He couldn't. He turned towards Dean to say something but it was already to late.

Dean's machete went down and then there was blood everywhere. With the neck half protected by the sleeping bag the cut wasn't deep enough and the vampire screamed. After the second blow it went silent and the head dropped nearly a foot from the rest of the body. Dead eyes were looking at Victor and there was more blood.

"What?" A voice shrieked and the next second somebody grabbed Victor from behind and a sharp pain spread through his neck, made his left arm tingling. With his elbow Victor could get the attacker off his back and he spun around. Sweet little girl grinned at him with her mouth full of teeth and blood.

"Hunter." She snarled.

Something in Victor's mind snapped. Without a second thought he moved his arm and the grinning stopped. Headless the body went down but Victor had no time to think about it. There were still three more vampires in the room.

Thud. Correction, two more. While Victor had hesitated Dean was doing his job. Now the vampires were coming after them growling in not really human voices and with bare fangs.

Somehow it made it easier for Victor. He poisoned the one who had barely managed to get out of his sleeping bag with a syringe and aimed with the machete for his neck. It took him three strikes before the head finally came off. By the time the vampire was dead Dean stood already at the door watching out for more company.

_Five down, nine more to go. Wait, don't forget Eddy. Eight to go,_ Victor corrected himself and felt a maniac grin on his for sure blood covered face. He fought the urge to lick his lips and wiped the blood off with his sleeve instead.

"You OK?" Dean asked.

"Isn't that bad." The bit hurt but it wasn't bleeding much.

Somewhere in the house Gerry and Foster did their job too, the screaming was unmistakable.

Under Dean's lead they searched the other rooms – which were empty except for two more already dead vampires – before they went up the stairs. The noise of the battle got louder here. So Gerry and Foster were already at the party.

"I faced down hunters for centuries." A voice bellowed over the screaming and shouting. Another Dracula wannabe? Victor rolled his eyes.

The next scream was more human, Foster.

Shoulder to shoulder Victor and Dean entered the room.

One vampire stood with his back towards them and he never had the chance to turn around. Dean was past him before he even hit the ground.

Victor followed him and took in the scene. Gerry to his left, fighting two vampires. One bleeding from deep cuts but with his head still on his shoulders and a girl out cold from the dead man's blood. In the middle of the room lay Foster a vampire on his knees next to him with his lips on Foster's neck. Under different circumstances it would be intimate almost erotic but this was just obscene.

"Foster!" Victor rammed a syringe into the vampire's neck – another way too young girl – and kicked it to get it off his friend before he swung the machete. This time he hit just right and he needed only one blow.

For a second he thought Foster was dead. He was so pale, his eyes closed and Victor wasn't sure if he was breathing. He was loosing blood, though. But then he opened his eyes and reached out for Victor to help him to get up.

"Where do you keep them?" Dean had made his way straight to what seemed to be the master vampire. He was the only one who looked like he was old enough to buy a beer.

"Leave know and you may live." The vampire – LeFanu if Victor recalled the name correctly – said instead of an answer. Gerry dropped the last vampire which only left LeFanu.

"Tell me and I may kill you quickly." Was Dean's counter offer.


	10. Chapter 10

The four hunters with blood dripping machetes in hands formed a loose circle around the master vampire. Victor and Foster a little chowed at, however, the bleeding had stopped quickly – something in the vampire saliva? – and they were still four hunters against one vampire. Foster tried his best to not look like he was about to double over but Victor stayed close to him just in case.

LeFanu didn't move, he just took in the scene around him – his children laying in their own blood – before he focused again on Dean.

"I told them to not draw attention." LeFanu said with a sigh. "That it had been arrogance that almost got us extinct. But would they listen? Bringing back food night after night." He shook his head lost in his own thoughts.

"Maybe you shouldn't have relied on teenagers." Dean suggested and stepped closer. The vampire still didn't move, didn't even acknowledge Dean's presence.

"Who else is willing to get turned nowadays?" LeFanu let out a hollow laugh. "Teenagers with half-baked romantic ideas that some bad but popular writers had put in their heads. That are the ones begging to become a creature of the night." He spit out the last words in clear disgust. "The girls were fighting over the name _Bella_, can you believe that? Not long ago I would have laughed at them while I ripped out their throats." He smiled sadly looking Dean in the eye for the first time. In an helpless gesture he spread his arms. "Desperate times, desperate times."

"Where is my brother?" Dean asked.

"Dead." LeFanu grinned at Dean who had lost all color.

"No!" Heartbreaking pain in one single word.

"I sent Bella to kill everything in the basement minutes ago. Nice to know I take a hunter with me." LeFanu said and the next second his head was cut off. He didn't even looked surprised.

Dean turned on his heel and the others followed him.

_Sam is dead, Sam is dead. _Victor's head spun. Sam couldn't be dead.

A scream – far way maybe from the basement – and they took off running. Taking two steps at once Dean was way ahead of them.

"Sam!" He yelled and got a "Dean!" back.

Sam was alive. Victor didn't even try to hold back his grin while he followed Dean into the basement. Some part of him had been convinced that they wouldn't find Sam in time. Even before the vampire had dropped that bomb a part of him had been sure that Sam had been dead for hours.

"Sam!" Dean shouted again now on the stairs to the basement. Someone else screamed in pain and there was a struggle. "Bitch! Get away from him."

That didn't sound good but from his point on the stairs Victor couldn't see much of the basement. He smelled blood, though.

When he reached the bottom Victor stopped dead, this wasn't what he'd expected. The cages with iron bars from floor to ceiling – the vampires had to keep their victims locked away somehow – were hardly a surprise but a girl struggling through the bars with Sam still in the cage he hadn't expected.

From the waist up naked Victor could see Sam's muscles working while he tried to press the girl into the bars closer to him and at the same time to get away from her teeth. He failed at the last part and her teeth sank into his forearm but he hold his iron grip. With his free hand he punched her in the side and she screamed in agony.

Then Sam and Dean made eye contact and on a silent command Sam let go of the vampire and pushed her right into Dean's stroke with the machete.

Panting his forehead against he bars Sam stood there for a second before his knees buckled and he slid down to his knees. His arms and chest were covered with bite marks and the recently healed wound on his side stood angry red against his pale skin.

"I think I'll sit down for a moment." Victor heard Foster mumble but didn't pay much attention.

"Sammy?" Through the bars Dean searched for a pulse and when he let out a sigh Victor knew he'd found one. "We'll get you outa here. Hang in there a second. I'm here. Everything's fine."

With a squeak Gerry got the door of the cage open and a second later Dean was at his brother's side searching for other injuries than the obvious ones. He worked Sam's hand open and threw away the bloody piece of broken glass his brother had in a death grip. Was that why the girl had screamed in agony when he had punched her?

"You lost quite a bit of blood, didn't you?" Dean asked in a low voice stroking Sam's sweaty hair out of his face. "But you were more lucky than that poor bastard."

Only now Victor noticed the body in the cage next to Sam's. Judging by his sightless eyes and the greyish color of his skin he had been dead for a while. The other cages at least were empty.

Because the dead ones are in the barn, the little voice in the back of Victor's mind whispered.

While Dean and Gerry took care of Sam Victor tried to figure out what had happened here. Sam in a cage had somehow managed to fight off the vampire who had come here to kill him.

Looking closer to the man in the other cage – mid thirties with a week's stubble on his cheeks – it became clear that Victor's first impression had been right the man hadn't been killed by the vampire in the last few minutes. During the night or even yesterday Victor guessed. Maybe his heart had given in due to the blood loss. Only wearing jeans the bite marks on his neck, arms and chest told a story of days of torture. One irregular cut on his chest seemed off.

Taking in more of the scene Victor noticed a tray in the far corner of the cage with an empty plate and a half full glass of water which made sense, too. Of course the vampires wanted to keep their victims alive as long as possible.

So what? Weak from blood loss – if his current state was anything to go by – Sam had broken his water glass, cut the dead man in the chest to get what was left of his blood and then fought the vampire till the cavalry arrived? Though guy, Victor had to admit.

He looked over to Sam. "How is he?"

"They chewed on him quite a bit. Nothing serious though."

"Nothing serious?" Sam opened his eyes to half-mast and squinted at his brother. "You have any idea what kind of bacteria can be found in a human mouth? I'd rather got bitten by a dog."

"Vampires aren't human." Dean pointed out.

"That doesn't make it better."

"When you can bitch around like that it can't be that serious." Dean was done checking his brother for injuries and now Sam was struggling to stand up. Even with Dean and Gerry at his sides he nearly collapsed twice.

"Vic." Gerry shouted and startled him. He spun around machete ready expecting more vampires but they were still alone. By his count there shouldn't be any of them left but you never knew, right?

"Open the doors and then get Foster." Gerry nodded towards the wooden double doors locked by a beam. So this was the root cellar. Victor struggled with the heavy beam for a second and he felt fresh blood at the side of his neck but he got the doors open. Bright sunlight stung in his eyes.

"Get Foster." Gerry repeated while she and Dean maneuvered Sam towards the opening.

Foster had sagged down a wall and was now sitting with his legs stretched out and his back against the wall and his hands lax in his lap. Chin on his chest he didn't move and Victor wasn't sure if he was even conscious. Foster's neck had stopped bleeding a while ago but the collar of his flannel shirt was soaked with blood. He had lost a lot of blood.

"Foster?" Victor stepped closer afraid of what he might find. Did his friend just die while they had all been busy saving Sam? Victor swallowed thickly against the lump in his throat.

"Foster?" He asked again and crouched beside his friend. When he reached out to check his pulse Foster lifted his head and Victor let out a sigh of relief.

"We've got to get moving." Dean pushed. With an half-conscious Sam in the middle the three of them were already halfway out of the cellar.

"Move your sorry asses." Gerry growled but her eyes flickered with worry over to Foster.

"Can you get up?" Victor ignored the others and concentrated only on his friend. No way Victor could carry him – even without a mauled neck it would have been impossible for Victor – so Foster had to participate in this. Or they had to wait till the others got Sam out and came back to help but Victor wasn't fond of that option. At least they had to try.

"Foster, c'mon man." Victor hooked him up under the shoulders and got him to his feet. Sandwiched between Victor and the wall Foster stood more or less on his own.

It would have been easier if Victor didn't have his machete still in hand, however, he wasn't ready to let go of the weapon yet. But he managed to get a good grip under the other man's shoulders.

Foster's head lolled forward and rested in the crock of Victor's neck – the already bitten one. Dean's warning about blood contact in mind Victor shoved Foster away and tried to get to his side so that they could actually walk out of the basement.

"I can hear your heartbeat." Foster mumbled and his head snapped forward. His tongue was wet on the open wound on Victor's neck. "And you taste good." He licked the wound almost gentle and then there was the sharp pain of his teeth in Victor's flesh.

Victor kicked him away and staggered two steps back while his mind still tried to catch up on what just happened.

When Foster snapped at him with bare fangs and a deep growl Victor reacted. He swung the machete.


	11. Chapter 11

Time froze. With wide eyes Victor watched the surprised look on Foster's face while his head tilted over to the side. In slow motion Foster's body slid to the floor and his head landed in a puddle of his own blood.

"Foster!" Gerry screamed but it came from far away. Blankly Victor stared at the blood splattered wall where Foster had been standing a second ago. Something clattered to the ground and it could be the machete which had slipped from his numb fingers.

Foster. He had killed Foster. His thoughts ran in circles and didn't make any sense at all. Foster was dead. He had killed him. A friend.

"Oh, god!" Victor was shoved aside and he had to lean heavily against the bars of a cage. His legs trembled and without the support he'd go down like a rag doll.

"Foster." Gerry. Pleading. Victor turned away – but still had the picture of Foster's dead body clear in his mind – and sagged to his knees. Forehead against the cool steel he vomited till he was only dry heaving. The strain shoot lances of pain from his neck in his head and down his arm but the rest of his body was numb.

"Vic, hey." He had no idea how much time had past but out of nowhere Dean was at his side, holding his shoulders and rubbing circles on his back. Something about that was wrong Victor, however, couldn't care less. There was something more wrong, something about Foster. Blood. So much blood.

"It's okay." Dean's voice reached him through his foggy mind. "You had no choice. It's okay."

His tone told Victor that there was nothing okay about this. In the background somebody was crying.

"Can you walk?"

He nodded and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. With Dean's help he got to his feet and slowly they left the crying and the blood behind.

Outside the sun was shining and the air was fresh and Victor was sure that somebody – god or the devil – wanted to mock him. Dean guided him a few steps and then helped him to sit down next to Sam on the hood of a car. One of the vampires cars. The dead vampires. Dead like Foster.

Victor heaved again but there was only bile left which left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Holding his shoulders Sam saved him from doubling over but his grip was weak. Sam was wearing one of Dean's shirts but had left it unbuttoned. The bite wounds on his exposed skin looked nasty.

"Are you alright?" Victor asked, glad to have something to think about rather than Foster – who was dead, by the way. _Killed by your very own hands_, a mean little voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Sam looked him in the eye – dark shadows under his brimming eyes and pale from the blood loss – and tried a smile.

"I'll be fine." He said with a trembling voice. "And so will you."

Sam paused for a while catching his breath. With the heel of his hand he smeared blood and dirt and tears all over his cheeks. _The boy needs a tissue_, Victor thought randomly.

"You saved Foster."

Victor let out a hollow laugh. He saved Foster, that was a good joke. But Sam seemed serious.

"It wasn't your fault that he got turned." Honest, making a point. Sam meant what he was saying. "Thanks to you he didn't kill anybody. You saved him from becoming a monster. He would thank you for that."

They sat in silence for a while each of them lost in his own thoughts. Well, Victor was lost in a gray fog not really thinking at all. He could stay that way.

"Are you still bleeding?" Sam asked him through the fog and Victor needed a minute to figure out what he meant.

He probed his neck and when his fingers came back dry he shook his head.

"It stopped. You?"

"I'm good."

Through the open door to the cellar Victor couldn't see much for what he was thankful but now Dean and Gerry came out carrying something – somebody – wrapped in a blanket. The package was too short for a grown man and it was soaked with something dark at some points. Gently they put it to the ground while Dean opened the side door of a van. Then they settled the body – yes, you can name it. It's Foster's dead body – in the back and Gerry climbed into the driver's seat. Without a look in Victor's direction she drove away.

"We'll meet her at the sawmill." Dean said coming over. His clothes were stained with blood and he had dried blood on his hands and on his face. And he looked tired. "We take this car."

With his help Sam and Victor got in the car and Dean hot-wired it to follow Gerry.

Dean drove carefully and avoided most of the bumps but Victor welcomed every lance of pain his mauled neck shot through his body. It was the only thing he could feel. His mind drifted back into the gray fog of nothingness.

After a short drive they stopped to switch to the Impala.

"Come, it's more comfortable in the backseat." Dean coaxed him out of the car and a long second Victor just blinked at him. Why were they still dragging him around? He killed their friend. Why didn't they leave him at the farm where he would have sit around till the police would have come to arrest him. He'd deserve it. They could have blamed the whole massacre on him and he'd deserve it. He had killed a man. A friend. He had chopped his head off without a second thought. Without hesitation. The taste of bile was back in his mouth.

Will-less he followed Dean's instructions and was seated in the back of the Impala a minute later. In the passenger seat Sam sat, his elbows on his knees and his head hanging. He didn't look up when Dean started the car.

Victor spaced out again and he had no idea how much time had passed but when he looked up they had stopped at the sawmill they had left only a few hours ago. Up in one of the offices there was Eddy's headless body probably still tied to the chair. So many had died in the last hours. Those vampires had been barely more than kids and Foster ... Victor couldn't finish that thought.

_Your fault. You killed him. Murderer. You are a murderer. A cold blooded killer_. The little voice of his conscience taunted him. He wanted to cover his ears with his hand but he couldn't move his arms. Everything was numb. Maybe he could sleep it off. He hadn't slept last night so maybe this was all just a hallucination. Indicated by sleep deprivation and blood loss. Maybe he'd wake up in the morning and everything had been just a bad dream.

_It's real. You killed Foster and you know it._ He wanted to shout "Shut up!" but his mouth wasn't working like it was supposed to.

"Vic, you alright?" Sam had half turned in his seat to look at him. Somehow Dean had disappeared from the car without Victor noticing.

"No." He answered honestly after the minute he needed to figure out the meaning of the question.

"Yeah." Sam said a knowing expression on his face. Victor turned his head to avoid Sam's gaze, he wondered when the yelling would start. Would Dean beat him up? It was quite possible. He had killed his friend. Gerry's friend. She hadn't spoken to him since ... since. Hadn't even looked in his direction.

"What are they doing?"

Dean and Gerry dragged a pallet over and throw it on a pile of other pieces of wood. Gerry's stolen van stood not far away the side door closed but Victor knew what was inside.

"Building a pyre." Sam answered. He sounded dead beat. They all needed a shower, a good night's sleep and something to eat, not necessarily in that order and not that Victor was anywhere near hungry. Even thinking of food flipped his stomach. He swallowed and kept the bitter bile down.

"For Foster?" Stupid question.

"A hunter's pyre." Sam clarified. For a second he watched his brother and Gerry who eyed the pile of wood closely. "I think they are ready." He reached for the door and unfolded himself from the seat. Outside he stood heavily leaning on the door and the roof of the car.

A pyre, like a funeral. Something for family and friends to say goodby to their loved ones. Victor felt tears running down his cheeks. He shouldn't be here but he was glad that they tolerated his presence at least from the distance. From his place in the car he could watch and make his silent apology to his friend.

A door squeaked and suddenly Sam peered through the open door next to Victor. He hold out his hand.

"Come."

Together – they needed each other for support – they walked the short distance to the prepared pyre. Dean and Gerry carried the body still covered in the blanket and set it on top of the construction. Then Dean poured salt over it while Gerry emptied a canister of gas on it. Gerry lit a match.

When the flames flickered high Victor expected somebody – maybe Gerry – to say something but they all kept silent. All of them had tears in their eyes but nobody said a word.


	12. Chapter 12

The smoke burned in Victor's eyes but that wasn't the real reason for his tears. Looking around he noticed that the others were silently crying, too. Even Dean had tears running down his otherwise emotionless face. Victor blinked and looked back into the flames.

The fire was burning low now and in the middle Victor could hardly make out the form of the body. However, it would take a while to burn it completely. It. Foster. The man he had killed. The man he had known for two days. The man he had called a friend.

At some point Dean guided him back to the car which was probably good because he had been close to falling face first into the flames. Sam didn't look better.

After Dean had settled them in the car he drove them back to the motel. One last look told Victor that Gerry still stood at the pyre, staring into the flames.

"Victor." Dean said his full name – probably not for the first time – and looked him straight in the eye. They were back at the motel.

"Yeah?" He managed to say but it sounded hoarse. The muscles working his jaw pulled at his bitten neck. Sharp pain spiked through his arm and head.

"Go inside, take off your clothes and take a shower." Dean spoke loud and clear like he was talking to a five-year-old. "Can you do that?"

Victor thought about it and nodded. He could do that. Thinking about it, he had vampire blood – and Foster's blood – all over him.

"OK. I'll take care of Sammy and then I'll come over to look after you."

Victor nodded again and then his body went on autopilot. Inside his room he stripped and piled the soiled clothes next to the door. He'd burn them as soon as he could think straight again.

In the shower he turned the water as hot as possible and scrubbed his skin till he felt row all over. And still. He could feel the crusted blood on his skin. On his hands. Under his fingernails. Blood on his hands.

Closing his eyes he saw their faces. Not just Foster's – however, that was the worst part – but those teenagers, too. Every face was clear in his mind. They watched him, they mocked him, they screamed at him.

Sobbing Victor sagged down. The water was still pouring down on him, hot jets of water biting his skin. He drew his knees close and slung his arms around them, making himself as small as possible.

"Vic, hey, Vic." Suddenly Dean was with him in the shower. Victor blinked up at him and wondered why he was sitting on the floor and why the water was so cold. Dean reached for the faucet and turned the water off.

"Can you stand up?" Victor nodded and frowned at the towel on his lap. Where did that come from? "Scared me a little here." Dean chatted while he throw a second towel over Victor's shoulders. At least drying off he left for Victor to do himself. Dean settled him on the closed toilet seat and looked him over.

"I got it." Victor said and took the clothes Dean handed him. The last thing he wanted was Dean helping him putting on his pants.

"Get dressed and then I'll have a look at your neck." After he had made sure that Victor could manage the rest Dean left him and what was left of his dignity.

After endless minutes Victor had gathered the strength to come out of the bathroom and to face Dean.

"Dean, I'm sorry." For what he wasn't sure. For crying like a girl in the shower? For killing his friend?

"Sit and let me have a look at the bite." Dean said and he didn't sound angry at all. Tired, exhausted but not angry.

Victor sat and didn't even flinch when Dean disinfected the wound.

"You did good today. You know that?" Dean finished his work and put his things away. "What do you want? Liquid knockout or as pills?" He held up a bottle of Jack and a bottle of pills.

They had the Jack.

"When he … snapped at me." Victor took a large sip of the burning liquid. "I don't know … I just reacted." He shook his head, emptied his glass and helped himself with a refill.

"You had no choice." Dean kept up with his pace. They were at their third refill or was it the fourth? "Like I told you, it's the only cure for vampirism." He made the universal cut-throat-gesture. "He knew the risk. You stopped him before he could kill anybody. You did the right thing."

"It doesn't feel right."

"It never does."

When Victor woke up the next day with a bad taste in his mouth and feeling like a week old roadkill Dean was gone and for a moment he was sure the Winchesters had left for good. He wouldn't blame them.

But when he got the nerve to look out of the window he found the Impala in its black and shiny glory still in the parking lot. No sign of Gerry's truck, though. And when Victor stepped out of his room he noticed the maid who was cleaning out Gerry's room.

Fists buried in his pockets Victor leaned against the wall and closed his eyes against the bright sun. Half a bottle of Jack had been a little too much, he thought. Hell, he could use the other half of that bottle right now.

The door next to him opened and Dean stepped out into the sunlight. He squinted the same way Victor did so he probably felt like crap, too.

Dean carried his and Sam's bags but he didn't looked like Victor had caught him sneaking out on him.

"You okay?" Dean asked while he dumped the bags in the trunk.

"Yeah." Victor lied. Nothing was okay and he had no idea how to make it okay.

"Get your things." Dean left the trunk open for Victor's bag. "I'll wake sleeping beauty and then we should hit the road. Somebody will notice the farm soon." He thought about it for a second. "Or the saw-mill."

Victor wanted to say something – talk about it or maybe apologize, again – instead he turned and grabbed his things. Dean was right, the police would notice the massacre they had left soon and they should be gone by then.

So he took his place in the backseat of the Impala and stared sightlessly at the landscape passing by.

***end***

* * *

A big "Thank You" to everybody who enjoyed this story with me. It's just amazing how many people read it, left a review or put it on their alert/favorite list.

Victor's journey will continue in the fifth (and last) part of this 'verse "Monster in the Mirror" so watch out for it if you like.

But first for something completely different.


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